Like Dying a Little
by The Cellar Dweller
Summary: Set in near future of AtS-S5, Spike and a few others are under siege in Wolfram & Hart. Spike looks back on the past few years and sits down to write a letter. Spuffy, but not everyone may like it.
1. Default Chapter

Hi, it's been a while since I wrote. Been busy and I had no inspiration I guess. Adjusting to Buffy ending and Angel's new direction. It's hard to be a Spuffy these days, especially with Sarah declining to come back for a guest shot on Angel. Closure, it seems, is not within our grasp.  
  
Didn't plan on putting this one on the net. I wrote this story for my wife and she said I should post it anyway. And I am Spike to her Buffy and obey her every whim. Anyway, this story deals with Spuffy feelings in a way that not everyone will like, just to give fair warning.  
  
Disclaimer: These characters are all Joss' and ME's property. I own nothing. In fact I'm lying in a gutter somewhere as I type this and the guy I swiped the laptop from is calling the police...better hurry.  
  
LIKE DYING A LITTLE  
  
CHAPTER I:  
  
Spike leaned back in the expensive leather desk chair. He stared up at the ceiling of Angel's office and sighed. The pencil in his hand tapped impatiently on the notepad on his lap.  
  
They'd be coming soon.  
  
One foot on the desk, the other on the ground, he turned from left to right in the chair at a constant rhythm. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. This was tough. He'd spent so much time burying the part of him that wanted to write that it wasn't easy exhuming it on the spot.  
  
Especially not under these circumstances.  
  
He couldn't hold them off forever and he knew it. Angel's private stash of blood was running out and without it he couldn't keep his strength up. And his wounds wouldn't heal all that well either. Which means time was running out on him...again.  
  
Deadlines. They'll give you writer's block anytime. He shook his head and hoisted himself up, putting the notepad on the desk. "Come on, you useless bugger. Not like you're trying to come up with war and bloody peace! Just write.."  
  
He stopped. Yeah. Just write. Just write her. Just write what you won't get to say. You've spent a couple of years at her feet and you had no trouble pouring it all out then. Not that any of it ever mattered. But that was different. Those were all attempts at winning her over. Which is not what you're trying to do now. You're trying to...be honest? Set the record straight?  
  
What could he say that hadn't been said already?  
  
In front of him he heard a soft moan. He looked up and saw Lorne still lying on the couch, stirring a bit. Dreaming probably. Didn't look like any of his wounds had reopened. Spike's lip pulled up to the right. Funny thing about that guy. Every time he'd been certain the guy was a poofter, he'd hear him go homina over some sexy broad. Ah well, he was a demon. Maybe he swung both ways. He looked over to the corner where Knox's dead body was still lying. Of all the people he could have wound up being isolated with, it had to be the non- fighters. At least Gunn would have hold his own. Even the ex-Watcher had some grit in him lately. Spike teased him a lot, since Watchers still kind of rubbed him the wrong way, but he had a silent bit of respect for Wesley. Besides, any guy who got kicked out by those dusty old gits couldn't be THAT bad.  
  
But no, he had gotten trapped in here with two of the least useful guys in battle. He'd done his best to look out for them, but there were just too many. Science boy got tagged good in the third attack. Before they got the barricades up. He and Lorne had done their best to tend to him but there wasn't much they could do. He hadn't seemed to suffer. Which was probably more than you could say about Spike himself, if the past was any indication.  
  
He looked at Knox's face. Funny, he looked pale and crappy, but not dead. Just asleep. From a distance anyway. But he'd seen too many dead bodies not to know the difference. Poor Fred. She would be upset. Knox and her had been working closely together and she was a sweet and sensitive little thing. Funny thing was, Knox had always looked familiar to Spike. Could never place him, but.. Even now he got momentarily distracted looking at his face. Well, probably nothing anyway. He'd met a lot of people over the years, and he'd seen a lot of them dead too.  
  
And pretty pointless to wonder about something like that. He and Lorne were likely to join Knox soon. Oh, he was sure the others were outside, doing whatever they'd come up with. Trying to get in, get the right spell going, whatever. But they sure were taking their time.  
  
She was probably with them. Out there. Right now.  
  
And he couldn't even look. The windows were all dark. There was nothing to see. Made him wonder if the entire office was in some dimensional warp or on the threshold of one or something. Didn't matter much to him. Theorizing was pretty pointless right now. They were in. They couldn't get out. All they could do was wait. And fight.  
  
And hope.  
  
Yeah..she was probably out there now. With them. They'd left Europe to join Team Poofter yesterday morning, before it all went crazy. Probably with ole Watcher boy, Red and a couple of Slayerettes. Maybe even the little Bit.  
  
Probably exchanging notes with Wesley and Fred and pouring over whatever old texts were handy. He'd seen it all plenty of times, on both 'teams'. He had to chuckle at that. Always part of their groups, usually not really wanting to be...makes you wonder about that 'free will' thing.  
  
But then he hadn't had any free will since he woke up from that dream about 3 years ago. Since he woke up with the taste of her lips still on his. And realizing how badly he wanted that taste.  
  
He turned back to the notepad. Come on now. Can't be that hard. Just..write.  
  
He looked up at the windows again, and the impenetrable darkness behind them. It pissed him off. Could he at least take a peek at her from the top of a skyscraper? No, of course not. Not even a crumb. What else is new. But then maybe it was better this way. He'd see her stand next to him, no doubt. While he was up here looking like an idiot. What could he do, wave? Nah.....  
  
He sighed again and put the pencil to the paper. 'Hello Luv,....'  
  
Yeah. He had that an hour ago. Would be good to move on now. He was nervous about it. It felt important. Because he could die? Yeah. But it didn't worry him as much as it used to. Last time was worse. At least now he could fight like he preferred to. And he wouldn't have to look in her eyes....  
  
He leant his head forward, down on the desk. He remembered her eyes as she said it: 'I love you'. Too bad he was so damn good at seeing people for what they are. So good at seeing what people are really feeling. Sure even the most insightful guy in the world fools himself when he's in love, and he'd done that plenty. But at that moment there was no doubt about it. The simple truth. She cared about him. Enough to lie about loving him so he'd die happy.  
  
That wasn't what hurt so much though. She'd been telling him she didn't love him in about a hundred different flavors for a long while now. But he'd always tried to keep believing that she really did. Or rather, that she really could, if she would give it a chance.  
  
And that's what really killed him. There at the end, as she said it and he looked into her eyes and saw that she was lying for his sake... he felt a sad acceptance wash over him. That it was true that she didn't love him. And that it was also true that she really could have.  
  
Had things gone different.  
  
"I'm sure that someone could write that up beautifully with this great bloody taste of irony in it somewhere" he muttered to himself.  
  
He thought back. Go different? Where to begin? At the beginning? How much more wrong can you get? They were enemies. The Slayer of Vampires and the Killer of Slayers. He remembered seeing her for the first time. Dancing at the Bronze. So young, so full of life and power, and yet so naïve in so many ways. He'd wanted her even then.  
  
Granted, mostly to rape her before killing her, but he definitely felt an instant tugging of wanting her. Then they danced the dance for a while. She was a beautiful enemy, a source of frustration and defeat. He hated that because he wanted to win all his fights, but at the same time, nothing made life worth living so much as having a fiery Slayer for an opponent that just won't die.  
  
Then the whole mess with Dru leaving him, and getting that chip in his head. Not the greatest period of his existence. Dumped, helpless, pathetic. He'd fought so hard, for so long, not to be pathetic anymore. Never again. Didn't quite work out that way. His most pathetic moments lay ahead of him. When he learned that Dru was right.  
  
Even soulless, his fascination with the Slayer had gone way deeper..until all he knew was how much he longed for her. Sure, his early attempts at showing her he'd changed were just to woo her. But hey, he was soulless! Didn't really know how to be in love with a souled person. Or what to do about it. He made a couple mistakes then. Like chaining her up, showing her he'd kill Dru, threatening to feed her to Dru if she didn't admit some affection for him. God, now that he had a soul, how pathetic and stupid that all seemed. Yeah, surefire way to win her over, mate. And yet at the time it actually had seemed logical. He had been so surprised when he bounced off her de-invited door opening. It had hurt so bad.  
  
But after the Glory thing, she'd changed. She still didn't return his feelings, but she at least believed his were real. It took getting tortured close to death, but hey.. And the whole fight against Glory had been overpowering for everyone. Destruction of the universe, Dawn's possible death... He'd done his best. He'd failed like a damn amateur, but he'd tried. Old coot tossed him off the tower. God it still made him grind his teeth. He'd been so close to saving the day.  
  
But he hadn't. She had. At the cost of her life. Because he'd failed. He hadn't known that pain on that level was possible. Or guilt. You weren't supposed to feel that without a soul were you? And yet...nothing had mattered anymore except making up his failure to her memory and her little sis.  
  
But she'd come back. Oh dear god, the kind of thing you dream of when a loved one has died. The fairy tale kind of impossibility that can't be. And yet, there she'd been. He thought it was the bot at first, but after only a second he knew. He saw her eyes, he smelled her hair, her skin. He thought he'd choke on the emotion.  
  
Of course her resurrection brought it's own complications.  
  
The fact she didn't love him was something he'd almost forgotten. He'd told her before she died. That he knew she didn't love him. But she treated him like a man and that..had meant something. Something a monster shouldn't deserve. It was true and he knew it. Just like when he told Cecily he was a bad poet. He'd never even let himself think it, but when push comes to shove..well, you know what you know. And he hadn't expected to survive the coming battle against Glory anyway so it was easily said.  
  
Okay, not so easily. but it had been said. Of course now that she had been alive and near him again, how was it possible to not want her? But what would he do? What was his role now that she was back?  
  
To his surprise, it was a better one that he'd had before. She came to him. She enjoyed hanging out with him. She even seemed to prefer it to hanging out with her friends. They were all concerned and pushy and he wasn't. He didn't make demands of her that way. She could be careless around him. She'd opened up to him in ways she hadn't to them.  
  
It had felt so good.  
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter II

CHAPTER II:  
  
Spike startled out of his thoughts when he noticed he'd driven the point of his pencil almost through the paper. He sighed and grimaced. He got up from the chair and checked the barricades. A bunch of furniture tied to the doors of Angel's office. Still pretty sturdy. It would hold for a while. And there was no sound. Guess they weren't coming yet then. Regrouping, or waiting for night, or whatever it is these things are ruled by.  
  
He turned to look at that damn thing this all started with. The amulet. Nothing but trouble from day one. Sure he'd closed the Hellmouth with it, but that had only started a whole new slew of crap for him. It was all a mess. All just big powers moving pawns over the chessboard. He was so tired of feeling like that. Now it turned out the thing affected reality itself and whole legions of buggers were after it. As soon as Angel and his gang had realized what the amulet was, what it could do and where it came from, they contacted the other gang in Europe. Major trouble.  
  
Then Angel and Wesley and basically all the rest had gone out to find this old scroll..and all hell had broken loose here at the office. Like they'd known when the time was ripe. None of the building's protective spells had meant a thing to them. Just waltzed through it all, slaughtering everyone. Hell, if he hadn't stayed behind they'd already have the damn thing. Just luck. Yeah.  
  
He returned to the desk and sat down. He looked at the damaged paper and sighed. That wouldn't do. He tore it off the pad and tossed it crumpled into a corner. On the fresh sheet underneath it he wrote "Hello Luv.."  
  
Right.  
  
Now onward. He sighed again. Yeah, it was that period. Got him all tense and had him pin the last letter attempt to the desk. That period. Just after she'd come back. It hurt the most to think about. More than the sexual encounters of the months that followed. Even more than the memories of her beating him to a pulp, calling him every foul name in the book.  
  
Even more than the heart-wrenching memory of her squirming underneath him, repeating his name over and over and saying 'please', and 'no' a lot.  
  
God, can you actually feel your heart break?  
  
All of that was too much to bear, but that period shortly after her death was different. That one wasn't about guilt he could never get past. No it was because even though he knew she'd been traumatized by her stay in a heaven dimension and subsequent return to earth, there was never a time he had been closer to her, or on better terms. Never a better chance to actually..be with her.  
  
Because underneath it all, she'd enjoyed his company. She'd come to his crypt and they'd talk, and have a drink. And she would even tease and smile a bit. Superficially but still.. Now after remembering her eyes just before HE died, thinking back on that period stung the most, because there could have been something. Had things gone slightly different maybe.  
  
Or maybe not. He'd never know. But the doubt was searing. God he'd been such an idiot. First 'date' he got her on, he played poker! He'd slapped his head later on. She'd called him lame and she was right. Of course, she also said he was the only one she could even stand to be around and that felt good. And made him feel more like an idiot.  
  
But it didn't last, those times. He got more frustrated because she started using him as a safety net against boredom and being with her friends. And then she'd started using him as 'physical therapy'. Which had felt great while it lasted. It felt like his dreams coming true. There was no way he could not go for that feeling. To touch her, taste her...But the downside was that the more physical they got, the crappier she started treating him emotionally again. The tiny, gentle bond they'd formed got tossed out the window. She hadn't been so nasty to him since they'd been enemies. She was reacting to her trauma and her dark side had come out. And she hated herself for it and took it out on him.  
  
And he'd known it all. But it wasn't possible to say no to her. And he started hoping that this dark side of her, this side that liked dark things and kinky and perverse sex, this side that neither Angel or Riley had ever seen would be the key to ALL of her. And he started focusing on it. Trying to stimulate it. Another stupid mistake. She had that dark side, sure, but it would never be the key to the rest of her. It was only a small part. And trying to push it only made her associate it with him more and more. Until she'd had enough and told him it was all over. She was nice about it. She admitted she wanted him in that hated purely physical way. She apologized for using him for her own benefit. And destroyed him with the gentle way she called him 'William'.  
  
It was all he could do not to burst into tears on the spot.  
  
And then that whole business with Anya. Ah well, that was drunken stupidity on the rebound. Or TRYING to be on the rebound. Of course it had other terrible consequences. He had believed her earlier when it was over, but he didn't want to let himself know that. And Anya was a way to feel, to try and feel that there could be life after Buffy. Of course in retrospect, it had actually felt more like there would never be life after Buffy.  
  
And worse of all, she'd been hurt by it. And not worse because she was hurt, but because of what that meant! "Didn't take long, did it," she'd said. And the pain and the jealousy was obvious. Jealousy! And he started hoping and believing again. It was maybe the strongest indication he'd ever had. And of course the little Bit had to rub it in. It had been obvious to her that seeing him with Anya had really hurt her big sis. So there he went again. Was there something? A spark? Anything?? Please?  
  
So he'd gone to talk....which had not gone well....  
  
In the end at least it got him his soul back. But no longer a monster without a conscience, life wasn't the same. The views on life and love and right and wrong restored in his shattered mind were not, could not ever be the same as before. She didn't love him and he now felt he didn't deserve her love.  
  
He returned to Sunnydale and who knows..she could have helped him and have learned to see him as a man. But the First Evil had gotten hold of him as he was weak and almost insane. His shattered mind was brainwashed and by the time he saw her again it was all messed up. And by the time that got worked out, and she actually was helping him, and he was free of the First's grip on him...well, all was messed up again because now they were all going to die. Again.  
  
Never a break.  
  
But there had been moments when they touched, when their eyes would meet, and he would feel it..she cared for him. He'd been everything from mortal enemy to lover, but now for the first time they were friends. She believed in him, trusted him, even defended him against the Scoobies. And they shared some genuinely intimate moments that he would carry with him till he died. Moments that were more than friendship. And once before the final battle it had actually been her to start a talk about acknowledging that those moments were important, that they'd meant so much to her and that they shouldn't just shrug it off. That they needed to talk about their feelings.  
  
And then of course he'd hesitated, she'd wavered, he'd been at a loss and she chickened out. All of which could have been a start...  
  
He grunted. There we go again. Woulda, coulda, shoulda...no good. Pointless. Not what he should say. Not what he wanted to say.  
  
*COUGH*...n-not going too well...e-eh, sport?"  
  
Spike looked up like he'd been struck by lightning. "Lorne! Damn, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" He paused. "Well, if my heart was still beating...How're you feeling mate?"  
  
Lorne looked up from the couch. "Like a ...*cough* bunch of shadowy looking demons with claws and ...hooves did the lambada on my head and ribcage for the past day or so..."  
  
Spike smirked a bit. "That about covers it. Coulda been worse though. They could've been doing the Macarena." Lorne's shot him a look and mouth formed soundless mock-laughter as Spike walked over to the couch. "Bandages holding?"  
  
Lorne nodded and grimaced. "Think so. Not that it matters much, unless our broody boss and teammates come through in time."  
  
Spike got up and scowled. "Forehead's not MY boss."  
  
Lorne raised his hand in a weak wave. "Sorry. My bad."  
  
Spike still had a slight scowl on his face, but shrugged. "Yeah well, way I figure, we probably got both gangs out there right now, and if the two former Watcher boys managed to not yap each other to death, they could be coming through any moment."  
  
Lorne looked at him "Which you're not really expecting."  
  
Spike shrugged again. "They got a good track record with that whole cavalry thing but they gotta botch it sooner or later."  
  
"Very inspiring," Lorne mused with a bit of a frown. Spike grinned. "Yeah well, not like I'm Wolfram & Hart's bloody motivational speaker am I? I call it as I see it."  
  
"That what you're doing at the desk then, cupcake?" Lorne said with a knowing look.  
  
Spike looked back. "What..do you.I don't.."  
  
Lorne lent forward a little and said "You were humming."  
  
"Humming? Was I..? I don't." Spike frowned. Then understanding dawned on his face.  
  
"Oh..Right."  
  
TBC 


	3. Chapter III

Like Dying a Little  
  
AN: Sorry for the lateness. We've moved and then I got the flu, and then whole Angel getting cancelled thing....well, this story was far from my mind. Especially since it was already finished before I started posting. My wife reminded me I should finish the uploading so I will, though I still doubt anyone will like it, hehe.  
  
CHAPTER III:  
  
"Bloody hell, you been snooping around in my head?" Spike snapped.  
  
Lorne shrugged. "Hey I'm lying here busy with bleeding out of several new orifices. I can't help it. You may as well have come over and yelled it all in my ear. Besides, you got such an aura around you right now, I almost didn't need you to hum or sing. You got some major emotional baggage going on there don't you?"  
  
Spike stiffened and got up. "Don't rightly see it being any of your business mate."  
  
Lorne shot him an angry look. "Oh! Right! I'm lying here in what may well be my final minutes in this life, and I'm surrounded by clouds of your emotional waste but I'm not allowed to talk about it? Well I AM talking about it, Mr. Fish-and-Chips, and you would do well to listen, because you're not exactly cranking it out, are you?"  
  
Spike opened his mouth to say something, then stopped. He almost smiled. There was something about meek guys growing a spine that he could appreciate. Then he frowned. "What do you care anyway? As you said, you're most likely about to be turned into dog biscuits soon."  
  
Lorne looked at him calmly. "Why do YOU care? You're as much at death's door as I am. Oh, alright, you'll probably last an hour longer. Big whoop. And yet there you are trying to write a girl a letter." He rubbed his temples as he added; "And failing miserably I might add. But really, why?"  
  
Spike lent down again. "Because that's what's important to me. She's been the only important thing to me for the last couple o' bleedin' years, alright?"  
  
"Right" Lorne nodded. "So when we're facing death, we suddenly find our little minds going to stuff that is irrelevant but important to us."  
  
Spike pulled up one eyebrow. "So....what, I'm that important to you? Uh sorry, mate I don't swing that way...."  
  
Lorne rolled his eyes. "No, you idiot. Look......I've done only two things in my life that mattered. One was entertaining. Hosting. Singing. Bringing some beauty in this dreary life............." His voice trailed off for a moment, then he collected himself. "The other was helping people. With Angel and the others I've done a lot of that, but I already used to do it, in a slightly different way. At Caritas......people came to me, troubled, hurt, unsure. And I would help them. They would sing and I would see them, their souls, their destiny. And I gave advise."  
  
Spike nodded. "Yeah I heard that. Like a therapist with cocktails or something ..."  
  
Lorne didn't respond immediately. "In a way... I was good. I helped a lot of people, of all kinds of species. Nobody fought at my place, it was a safe haven and all types of people and creatures just sat side by side and listen to music and have a drink and I would help them. See them from the inside out and lend a friendly hand. And it's hard, you know. Hard to say just enough to set them on the path they needed to take."  
  
He sighed. "I was good........" He looked at Spike. "Where I come from there was no place for anything like that. There was no music. No caring, no helping. Just battle, honor and their damned traditions."  
  
Spike only nodded. He got what he meant but was unsure how to respond.  
  
"Anyway......seeing how this could be my last hours of this life, I turn to what's important to me. Doing what I used to do, probably for the last time. To sense someone in pain and helping them. And maybe it's not a coincidence that we're both at this point....on the threshold...and you needing help and me needing to give it......you know?"  
  
Spike sort of shrugged. "Look I don't know about that stuff. I just..."  
  
"You need to write your letter." Lorne interrupted.  
  
Spike hesitated, closed his mouth and nodded. Then added; "It's......important..."  
  
"Of course it is you lug. Your Alexandra is leaving, and you're finally coming to terms with it."  
  
"Wuh? Who? Alexandra?" Spike wondered for a moment if the guy was delirious after all.  
  
"Oh, it's from a song. You know what I mean. You're 'one' is leaving. You're 'the one'. Throughout history of all worlds, people have been crying, singing and writing about it. Call her Alexandra, Juliet, Scarlett, Catherine, Lenore or Helen of Troy. The one. The woman in the story that everything else revolves around. The gal that makes the heart go boom. This is your story, and she's yours."  
  
Spike just looked at him. Lorne rolled his eyes again. "Oh please Mr. Tough Guy. I know you used to write poetry in Victorian England so don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!"  
  
Spike grimaced. "Fine, fine! No need to get nasty. She's my dream gal, got it. I should be jumping off the Titanic with her while Celine bloody Dion is shrieking in the background!"  
  
Lorne grinned. "NOW you're getting it. And for the record, Celine does not shriek. But what you're not getting is what you're doing."  
  
Spike sighed. "Trying to write a bloody letter."  
  
"Yes, but to say what? You've been going about this all wrong my friend. You're running in the same old circles. What do you think you really need to say with this letter?"  
  
Spike glanced at the desk. He hesitated, drawing breath to speak, but nothing much came out. "I-I......"  
  
"That you love her? Want her? Miss her?" Lorne interrupted. "Already said that, sport, a hundred times over. That you're sorry? There are no sorries left, and you know it. That you wish things had been different? What else is new?"  
  
Spike gave him a look. "And this is you helping how, exactly?"  
  
Lorne sighed. "That song I mentioned. You know what it's about? It's about accepting. About realizing how much your life has been enriched by loving someone, and not focusing on the wrong aspects for the wrong reasons. Sometimes people don't love us back, or fall in love with someone else, or they die, or just leave.....bottom line, they're not with us. But we need to realize not how crappy we feel, but how lucky we were, that we were even briefly touched by them, by feeling such feelings. Feeling such a love."  
  
Lorne thought for a moment and then quoted: "And you who had the honor of her evening. And by that honor, had your own restored. Say goodbye, to Alexandra leaving. Alexandra leaving with her lord.  
  
As someone long prepared for the occasion, in full command of every plan you wrecked. Do not choose a coward's explanation, that hides behind the cause and the effect.  
  
You, who were bewildered by a meaning. Whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving.  
  
Then say goodbye........ to Alexandra lost.'"  
  
Spike didn't say anything for a moment as the words sunk in. Whatever scoff he was planning fell dead and unspoken from his mind.  
  
He looked back at the desk, then back at Lorne. "You mean I....." Lorne shook his head. "No, YOU mean. Underneath you already knew. What you're really trying to say to her."  
  
Spike looked at the paper on the desk again and nodded. "Yeah.........'s like that innit? You just don't wanna know that you know....."  
  
He walked over to the desk, sat down and started to write.  
  
A little later he got up, folded the letter and put it into an envelope. Lorne coughed again and tasted blood, and looking up at Spike with the letter, he softly said: "There. Wasn't that hard was it?" Spike gave a sad chuckle. "Hardest thing I've ever bloody done......."  
  
Lorne nodded. "Still, you got it done pretty quickly. Which is good because I have something else to say. Another reason I gave you a little nudge. You has to do this quickly because there's not much time left....."  
  
Spike looked back at him now. "Saw more than just my writer's block, eh? What else? See my destiny? Going down in a bloody battle in a couple of minutes from now? No real surprise there." Lorne shook his head and tried to work himself into a sitting position. "No, something else is going to happen, and you'll need to make a decision, my bleached friend."  
  
Spike's brow knitted together in a questioning frown. Lorne nodded with his head in the direction of the amulet on the desk's corner. Spike looked at it and rolled his eyes. "Not that thing again! Already been there, okay?" Lorne's face didn't change. When he spoke there was a gravitas to his voice that Spike hadn't previously heard from him. "Yes, it's been used before, by different people with different agendas. And our coworkers are probably going to have a hell of a time facing off a lot of them. But by then this needs to be gone."  
  
"I should destroy it?"  
  
Lorne shook his head. "I know there was talk of that when you were still a ghost, to release your spirit. And yes it can be destroyed on hallowed ground but if they had done that the consequences would have been catastrophic. The result shockwave could have ripped all kinds of dimensional barriers."  
  
Spike sighed. "Ah. One of those."  
  
TBC 


	4. Chapter IV

Like Dying a Little  
  
CHAPTER IV:  
  
Spike sighed. "Dimensional disaster looming. Yeah.....well, been there too..... That why those legions of the dark and smelly want this thing?"  
  
Lorne nodded. "Few people knew what it really can do, and only utilized a tiny portion of it's potential. Like when it was activated to close the Hellmouth."  
  
"How do you suddenly know all this?" Spike asked.  
  
"I saw a big upcoming fork in the road of your destiny, and it's closely connected to it. Has been ever since you died with it."  
  
Spike looked at it, suppressing a curse. "Alright," he said with a slightly tired tone. "What's the decision I gotta make then? Gotta burn up again? I take it main point is to make sure those buggers outside aren't going to get it."  
  
Lorne nodded again. "You can fight, but you'll be overwhelmed. And help is not arriving before you have to make the choice. Your only other option is....."  
  
Lorne stopped and looked at the amulet with an expectant look. Spike frowned again. "What?"  
  
"Should be about now...." Lorne said softly. And as if on cue, the amulet started glowing brightly. Spike involuntarily took a step back. The amulet floated up a little and swayed in a tiny pattern, hovering a foot above the desk. As it did, tiny tears in the air around them in the room appeared.  
  
"Oh bugger!" Spike said, with a slight element of fear in his voice. "What's causing this then? Did we do something?"  
  
"No," Lorne said, "It was vague and hard to read but I think our friends outside are doing something. They've figured out the amulet is the key, and they've managed a spell to make their way back into the building, activating the amulet to use it like a catalyst, a point of focus and power for the spell."  
  
"Well....." Spike hesitated. "That's good then, right?"  
  
"Yes and no. It's working but they shouldn't have done it, because action is reaction and this is playing with fire in dimensional-rift-terms."  
  
"Great!" Spike mumbled, staring at the amulet, and the multiple rifts that were now all over the room, all getting bigger, slowly but surer."  
  
"So another apocalypse with dimensional crap! Those usually don't end well. What do I do? What's the choice I gotta make?"  
  
Lorne spoke softly. "Walk closer to it...."  
  
Spike hesitated and looked at Lorne like he was nuts. The Pylean demon only looked at him with a grave, calm look. Spike swallowed and took a few small steps closer to the hovering object. As he did, some fissures seemed to start disappearing. "Huh...!" Spike whispered and walked all the way up to the amulet. As he did, one fissure seemed to get bigger and bigger while all the others shrunk into nothingness.  
  
Spike was now right in front of the jewel and slowly reached out his hands to it. Before he touched he turned to look at Lorne, who only stared intently now. Spike gently grabbed the amulet, and the light shone less brightly. All fissures were gone, except for the last larger one, which was about 6 feet in height and 3 feet in width. It hung in the air as I pulsed and vibrated, bright light still emanating from it.  
  
Spike stared in it and said calmly, yet with a slight tremor in his voice. "Ok.....could really use some of that great advice now, mate."  
  
Lorne swallowed. "You're linked to it. You're like an anchor for it, giving it.....a focus I guess, like when you wore it in the Hellmouth. It's still activated but at least it's not ripping up reality on 50 different levels now......just one gate opened and it's stable from the looks of it."  
  
"So what now?" Spike said, kind of impatiently. Lorne was starting to sound like Wesley, and he was not in the mood for theorizing, even though it confirmed his own feelings. Lorne looked at the barricaded door. "They'll be coming now. Probably sensing it being activated."  
  
"Don't suppose I'm now all-powerful and can just turn'em to dust with a wave of my hand?"  
  
"No, if you stay, they'll kill you and take the amulet." Lorne said.  
  
"If I STAY......?" Spike said, turning around. "You mean I have to...." He nodded towards the portal. Lorne nodded. "That's the choice I was talking about, lamb chop. It will close the portal, free this building and take the amulet out of the grasp of those unpleasant smelly guys out there....and whoever they work for."  
  
Spike looked at the portal and swallowed. He remembered Buffy jumping into a similar portal, dying to save her sister and the rest of the world. The portal had led to a Hell dimension. He remembered himself dying in the Hellmouth. He remembered Pavayne opening a portal to a hell for him.......  
  
"What's.........what's gonna happen to me? Will I.....will I just die? For good this time? Or am I jumping straight into....into....."  
  
Lorne shook his head. "I don't know. I really don't. Could be both, could be neither. For all I know you're jumping straight into an Elysian garden filled with vestal virgins just dying to feed you grapes. It could lead anywhere."  
  
"Figures," Spike grunted.  
  
"Could be you'll go....anywhere, everywhere. If you really manage to hold onto it, provided you're not turned to dust this time, you could work like an anchor and give it direction. Maybe you'll be able to go traveling through all kinds of dimensions.....worlds......"  
  
Spike laughed. "Or maybe I'll just go poof."  
  
"Or maybe you'll just go poof." Lorne sighed. "Look, I know this is tough, but....." Spike shook his head. "Been there already. And....well, I talk tough, but ever since I got my soul back.....well, when push comes to shove....."  
  
"You do the right thing." Lorne said softly.  
  
"Was gonna say 'the stupid thing' actually, but....." Spike laughed, then stopped as he looked at the barricaded door. He frowned and whispered. "I can hear them coming." Lorne swallowed. He didn't hear anything yet as he looked at the door again, but he knew vampires had ears you could rely on. Spike turned to him again. "What about you mate? If I'm going....." He nodded towards the door. Lorne shrugged and tried to smile. "Oh that's okay. That whole 'being alive' thing was getting old anyway."  
  
Spike smiled and nodded. "Well, we're both buggered no matter what, right?" Lorne smiled back. "At least I met all my idols since we moved here......" They fell silent for a second. Then the sounds of growling, and hundreds of claws scraping over the floor, walls and ceiling of the hallways of Wolfram & Hart became clear enough so that Lorne could hear it now too.  
  
Spike looked at the letter he was still holding in his hand. He thought of her. So close, yet so far.....what else is new. He calmly walked over to Lorne and gave him the letter. "Well just in case you do make it, could you give this to her?"  
  
Lorne nodded and took the envelope. "Sure. And if I don't make it, which is a little higher on the 'likely-scale', they're sure to find it on the green hamburger with my clothes on that they'll find here." He tried to smile again. Spike did as well. "You know for a guy who dresses like a lounge singer, you ain't so bad sometimes, mate." He started to turn around but then caught himself. "Say......that song you quoted.....just curious....whose is it?"  
  
"Guy named Leonard Cohen." Lorne grinned. "You'd like him. He's a poet."  
  
Spike let the joke go past him. "Huh! I know him. Not my usual bag, but.....well..."  
  
Lorne looked at him questioningly. Spike shrugged. "Well, in our quieter moments....Dru and me.....well, she liked him. He had these vague cryptic poetic lyrics sometimes......they made complete sense to her o' course. Saw all kindsa stuff in them. Like he was talking straight to her from the speakers......I stole some albums for her....in our quieter moments we'd listen.....Weird." Lorne just smiled. Music as a touchstone between the most unlikely people and most unimaginable moments was not exactly an unknown notion for him.  
  
"Well...." Spike said as he recollected himself. "Better dash then." He looked at Lorne and for a second all smirk and sarcasm left him.  
  
".....thanks......y'know."  
  
Their eyes locked and they nodded in a moment of mutual respect and complete understanding of the situation they both found themselves in. "You're welcome." Lorne said. Spike nodded. Then turned around to face the fissure.  
  
He looked into it's light and swallowed. And he thought of her. Again. At any important moment she came to him in his head. He thought of her touch, her smell, her hair. The feel of her skin. The sound of her voice.  
  
He savored his memories for a moment, even the bad ones. What was it again? '......and by that honor, had your own restored.' Bloody right. She'd saved him. Loving her had saved him. And he knew in his heart beforehand he'd had no chance. He'd even said it to Captain America. 'Really think you got a chance?' . 'No not really, but a fella's gotta try. Gotta do what he can.' It was true. And he had. He hadn't had a choice anyway, he felt what he felt and had to act on it. No matter how hopeless, or stupid. And he was at peace with it.  
  
He remembered it all, the good things, the bad things.......the hopelessness that had driven him nearly mad at the time and the hope that actual had. The bleakness of the realization she didn't really love him and the frustration of the knowledge she could have. He remembered it all and accepted it. Embraced it.  
  
And suddenly he was almost glad that he'd never seen her since his resurrection. His last moment with her was when she held his hand, and where they touched flames had sprung up. She held his hand while hell crumbled around them.......can't beat that.  
  
He remembered. And thought of Lorne's words. And his letter. Then he looked up, as tears burned in his eyes and something strong and harsh gripped his throat. Yeah.....he knew what he was trying to say to her. Needed to say to her. And he'd written it, but perhaps.....perhaps he still needed to actually say it.  
  
He looked into the light of the portal and felt the tears leave his eyes and stream down his cheeks. And when he spoke, it was little more than a whisper:  
  
"Goodbye, Buffy............"  
  
Then he took a step forward.  
  
TBC 


	5. Chapter V

Like Dying a Little  
  
EPILOGUE:  
  
"I think he's coming to," he heard a voice say.  
  
Lorne frowned and squinted and fought a headache so bad it seemed to want to eat him whole. He squirmed and tried to open his eyes only to find that the light hurt.  
  
"Lorne, can you hear us?"  
  
Was that Fred? Yeah he thought it was. He squinted against the light and tried to see around him but it was nothing but blinding brightness and vague shadows. "Y-yes....who....Fred? Is that you?"  
  
"Yes!" He felt her hand grab his and squeeze it in delight. Slowly, very slowly the shadows started to take shape and the brightness became less unbearable. "You've been unconscious for a couple of days. You'd been infected by some strange infection on their claws. Do you remember what happened?"  
  
"I-I....." He tried to think back. Spike had vanished into the portal. They were at the door. The barricades held for about 47 seconds and those were the longest of his life.  
  
Then it had given way. The doors splintered and they had crawled in. Snarling and drooling and only barely visible. It was like they didn't reflect light so much as absorb it. He had wished he'd been able to make a last stand. He wasn't much of a fighter, but even he preferred to die on his feet to lying on a couch waiting to be massacred. Then they had been on him. He remembers the smell, their hands and claws reaching, grabbing, clawing.....then what?  
  
He vaguely remembered expecting a slash that would rip out his throat and decapitating him, but it didn't come. He remembers slipping into unconsciousness and the weight of them on him suddenly lessening.  
  
"We got their just in time, bro." Gunn, that was Gunn. He could almost tell by his shape too. "Yeah, I-I suppose you did. So it worked? The barriers were lifted? Everything okay? No hell portals going to eat us up?"  
  
"Not this time anyway." A less familiar voice. A young woman. A sweet voice with a slightly nervous laugh in it at her own joke. He'd heard it before. That sorceress friend of Buffy. "Willow, right?" he said. He could make out someone nodding. And the faintest trace of red in there.  
  
"We've been worried for these past few days, but it looks like you pulled through." Angel, that baritone he would recognize anywhere. "Yeah, but....my eyes. I can't see very well. Am I going to be okay here?"  
  
"You should," Fred said. "With rest, a couple of days and three doses of G'nwath a day."  
  
"G'n-what? Oh don't tell me; some horrible cure made of demonic poop or something?"  
  
"Uhm, demonic bile actually.....but only for a few days."  
  
Lorne sighed. "Ugh.....well, beats becoming blind as a bat I suppose."  
  
"Well, just rest and get better. Hopefully you can fill in the blanks for us on what happened on your end........" Angel hesitated, like he wasn't sure how to continue. Lorne smiled. "Are you trying to ask me what happened to Spike?" Fred answered before Angel could. "So he was with you? We weren't sure and after it was all over we couldn't find him anywhere. Lorne, what happened?"  
  
Lorne drew breath to speak and he noticed that someone else was in the room. Someone who hadn't spoken yet. He could only make out a vague shape and some light yellow coloring where the light hit her head.  
  
"Spike saved us," he simply said.  
  
Later that day Wesley visited. He'd been busy checking the building was safe now. Lorne tried to brief him best he could on what happened to the amulet. Throughout the day, Harmony brought flower arrangements that celebrities had sent him, along with big 'Get well' cards. He said he wished he could see them (especially the large stuffed doll that looked like him and upon closer inspection appeared to have been made from some unidentified being's skin) and he asked her if she knew what happened to his clothes. She showed him they were in a cupboard in his room. It was not all that badly torn and she knew how much he loved his suits. He smiled.  
  
Later when he was alone he got out of bed, with some difficulty, felt his way to the cupboard and got his clothes. He felt in his pocket and removed the letter. Then the stumbled back to his bed and waited.  
  
A little later he heard light footsteps and saw a faint movement near the light of the door. A soft voice asked: "Uhm....are you awake?"  
  
He nodded. "Come in," he said. "I've been waiting for you."  
  
"You have..?" Her voice was uncertain. "I-I just...."  
  
Lorne shook his head. "No, let's not get into that little dance. I already went a few rounds with him. You won't know what to say anyway. I don't even think there's a label yet for the bond between you two, pumpkin."  
  
She softly sat down on the bed. "....no, I don't think there is. Look, I...I've heard the official report. We don't really know what happened, I get that. It's just.....I only recently learned he was still alive and now....I don't know, I..." She paused for a second. "We shared so much.....both bad and good.....well, mostly bad to be honest, but at the end, we.........we had some...........he loved me. Things were messed up, either him or me or both of us or circumstances or everything....but he loved me. He got his soul back for me. And he died to save the world........and we never.......we just never got to.......I'm not saying that if he was here we'd be having a Gone with the Wind moment now, we were never really like that...........or I wasn't..........but.........he was.......in the end we had..........I-I.........we should have..........I wanted to talk about it..........us, our feelings..............we needed to.....I mean, before the fight.....I tried to but......we were both so......."  
  
Her voice trailed off. Lorne had listened quietly. He had a feeling she was going to do the little dance anyway. But now he reached out to her vague shape in front of him and touched her shoulder gently. "He wanted me to give this to you..." he said as he held up the envelope.  
  
She looked at it and took it slowly. Lorne then worked his way out of bed. She got up to help him, but he gently waved her off. "No, no, don't worry. This invalid can find the toilet down the hall by himself. He learned it today. Not without some mistakes in the beginning, but they managed to clean that office quite well, or so I hear.....I'll just be in the little showbiz-demon's room. You just.....take your time." With that he walked out the door, feeling the walls that would lead him on his way, leaving her alone in the room.  
  
She looked at the envelope, slowly opened it and took out the letter.  
  
"Hello luv,  
  
Looks like I'm off to the great unknown again. Hope it's not one of those places with pitchforks or something. Sorry I didn't get to say hi, or at least see you again. But then that was pretty much always us: bad timing.  
  
But I don't want to dwell on that, and neither should you. We've spend far too much time lingering in bad times and being each other's victims. Neither of us asked for it, just how it went. Can't change the past with all the guilt in the world.  
  
But I'm not bitter anymore, luv. Still wish things were different, can't help that, but I'm not bitter about it. Because I know two things: One, that no one has ever hurt me as much as you have in my entire life. Two, that you were worth every bit of it.  
  
What little of you I had, what little moments we shared in those final days that were real, they were worth it. Don't dwell on the bad stuff. Life's too short. Be happy. Live to the fullest, take care of your own, and try to have as few regrets as possible. It's all we can do.  
  
Goodbye, luv. Thank you for the love I felt.  
  
Yours, always,  
  
Spike"  
  
For a moment she didn't understand why the word 'always' suddenly looked different. Then she saw it had been smudged by a tear that had fallen on the paper. She covered her hand with her mouth briefly as if she'd just damaged an important heirloom. Kind of hastily she tried to dry it with a corner of her sleeve but she only succeeded in smudging it a little more.  
  
Seeing that she stopped and covered her eyes with her hand and stifled some quiet sobs. She didn't know why she cried. For the reformed enemy, the suitor, the comrade in arms? The former lover? The slightly awkward friend?  
  
The missed opportunity?  
  
She didn't know, and she wondered if she ever would. All she knew now was that she could remember everything about him in this moment. His eyes, his hair, the sound of his voice and the touch of his hands. She remembered his arms holding her in the night, her fingers gently caressing his skin. And she cried.  
  
She wiped her eyes and looked at the letter again. There was another line at the bottom:  
  
"PS: There was no oil involved, but I did clean the poofter's clock a few months ago. Just thought I'd mention it."  
  
Reading that, it made her laugh in spite of herself.  
  
Then it made her cry a little harder.  
  
. . . .  
  
The End.  
  
AN: Okay before everyone starts sharpening their knives, I just wanted to write a story in which Spike is able to get over Buffy and move on. It doesn't mean he doesn't love her or even that they couldn't get together later. (I was planning a sequel to this.) I just was tired of stories that either rewrote the actual canon, or wallowed in Spike being depressed. I wanted him to be able to face things and move on. And to be able to appreciate loving her and what it did for him even if he loses her.  
  
Fortunately, on 'Angel' Joss has done pretty much that. Spike is his own man now, maybe for the first time in his life. Not fighting for his mother, Cecily, Drusilla or Buffy, but because he believes in a cause. He has purpose. Like I said, I'm sure he still loves Buffy, and I certainly wouldn't mind her coming back to profess undying love, but I wanted Spike to alright even if that doesn't happen. Something like that.  
  
That's what this story was born from, as well as the notion that I heard in Cohen's song that you can lose a love and look at it, and then still appreciate the fact you were lucky enough to have it even briefly. Not something I'd be good at, but it's a lovely thought, and a rare one in stories. And as said, it was a X-mas present for my wife. Never meant to post it until she told me to, heh.  
  
Thanks to the kind reviews, and I hope people aren't mad. I'm still thinking of a sequel but what's happened on Angel now may change the course of what I was doing with that. 


End file.
